~ The Third Night ~

Clary walked forward towards the pool of dim light, the dirty concrete floor freezing under her feet. Her brother stood with his palms braced against the wall on her left, head bowed and back rigid; his torso was bare and he wore only a pair of maroon boxers. All the redhead could do was let this play out- her legs moved of their own accord, she had no control over her body. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness and Clary's feet planted ten feet away so that all she was doing now was watching. The spectre approached her brother without preamble and a lethal-looking metal chain materialised in its hand.

The redheads stomach tightened as it wound the chain around its hand a couple times for grip before flicking it up and then down across her brothers back. A cry stuck in the back of her throat as she saw the pink mark surface along his pale, already-scarred skin. She wanted to lunge for the spectre and give it a taste of its own medicine as it started dealing out lash after lash upon the white-blond. Her brother stayed perfectly still, taking the torture and merely grunting every so often. His eyes were shut tight.

Clary's heart was hammering against her ribs; she wanted to look away but she didn't seem to be able to avert her eyes, let alone turn her head. She felt sick to the core and was sure she looked horrified- she certainly felt it. And yet there was nothing she could do. She was helpless. Jonathan looked right at her then and his onyx gaze was so entirely fuelled with unadulterated ire and loathing that she would have stumbled back if she could move. Her body turned abruptly so that she was facing the spectre. But it wasn't a spectre after all; it was her.